#but those moments were rare and so subtle that if i didnt know i wouldnt have caught it

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey you know that one convo where Barnaby and Howdy are talking and Howdy is talking about his family? Yeah apparently that took the voice actor 20 times to get it right bec of all the rhyming in it

GOD I KNOW i saw their post and just. ohhhh man they're an absolute Beast for nailing it like that at all! what a fucking script! what a talented individual!

[hannieehaee]

hi! I'd like to request for svt’s reaction when their s/o wear a backless dress!! thank you!!!

s/o wearing a backless dress

content: slightly suggestive, gender neutral reader, reader is wearing a dress, implied to be established relationship, etc.

wc: 784

a/n: thank u for requesting! sorry i took a bit </3

masterlist

seungcheol -

would chuckle at you the moment he spotted the bareness of your back, hands immediately holding onto it as he pulled you towards him. would inquire if you were trying to tease him or if perhaps you were just feeling a little bold. would enjoy the sight regardless, keeping his eyes on your form through the rest of the day.

jeonghan -

he'd somehow tease you about it, running his fingers softly up and down the nude skin of your back. he'd relish on the skin to skin touch he could now have with you, smirking at the goosebumps he left in his wake.

joshua -

he'd be similar to jeonghan, teasing you about it while also keeping his eyes glued to your figure, enjoying the way the focal point was your pretty back. like the gentleman he is, he would offer you his jacket the moment he noticed a single goosebump on your back.

jun -

he had a tendency of going for bold looks that exposed his upper body, so he would probably have some type of preference for those looks. he would enjoy your own take on it, enjoying the bareness of your back. would still feel a bit flustered upon grabbing onto you and suddenly feeling bare skin, likely keeping his hands on you as much as possible.

soonyoung -

silly boy would not be able to keep his eyes off you. the backless aspect of the dress wouldnt be the only thing catching his attention, he would probably be enthralled by the entirety of your appearance regardless. the backless dress would be greatly appreciated, however, as his hands wouldnt stop touching your back as subtly as he could manage.

wonwoo -

he wouldnt say much, calling you beautiful as he always did upon seeing your pretty backless dress. the main way you'd know he liked it would be through the constant subtle touches he'd lay against your back, unsuspectedly running his fingers up and down its length, chuckling quietly at the way he felt you shudder. he would understand the feeling, as that's how he felt looking at you.

jihoon -

would be a bit flustered at the look. you know that painting of the girl in a backless dress in his studio? that alone tells me he likes the look, so im confident in thinking jihoon would adore his s/o showing off their back. he seems to love the look of his own back, so in a similar fashion he would also enjoy yours, eyes caught in a trance as he stared at it with want.

seokmin -

he's so damn touchy no one would ever even see the backless aspect of your dress, since he'd be glued to you at all times. it wouldnt be even with the intent to cover you up, but just because he enjoyed the feeling of your bare back against him.

mingyu -

would be insistent you put your hair up whenever you wore a backless dress, loving your back and rarely being able to see it out in the open. he had some type of fixation with your back already (all of you, really), so he would be overexcited the moment he saw you walk out of your room with the pretty outfit, allowing him to caress your back through the entirety of the night.

minghao -

he'd love the way it accentuated your body perfectly, allowing your bare back to be the main accessory of the look. would watch you from afar whenever given the chance, eyes glued to your back as he relished on your skin under the moonlight.

seungkwan -

flustered at the look. your whole back nude?? not that he didnt love it, but he'd just be a bit shy while looking at it. it wouldnt be the first time he's seen it bare, of course, but he would be entirely too self aware of other people laying eyes on any inch of your bare skin.

vernon -

if wearing outfits like this was a bit out of the ordinary for you, he would notice immediately, eyebrows raising in surprise but not vocalizing his enjoyment of the sight. he'd be a little extra touchy, liking the feeling of the warmth of your skin against his palms. would probably throw a comment at some point telling you that you should wear that dress more often.

chan -

his eyes would be glued to you whenever you showed any skin. its not like he was a depraved guy or anything, he was just obsessed with you in particular, so any bit of skin would have him almost salivating at the sight. would feel a bit possessive in the public setting, though, also feeling pride at knowing you were only his.

[hysterialevi]

Abraham - A RDR2 Fanfic

Fanfic summary [NO SPOILERS]: Lyle Morgan and his eleven-year-old son have a conversation about Beatrice’s death, only for the boy to witness a second one.

Warning(s): Mild language

Author’s note: Bear with me if not everything in this story is correct. I’m not entirely sure where Arthur’s originally from (all I’ve heard is that he’s from somewhere in the north), so I just made something up lol. Also, this fic will only be one part. Anyway, hope you enjoy :)

From Lyle’s POV

A FOREST SOMEWHERE IN MONTANA

SUMMER, 1874

Strollin’ through the tall, thick grass, I led my mount around the forest at a casual pace while my son sat on top, consumed by his journal as always. It was an hour or two before midday, and right now, there was a radiant blanket o’ sunshine bathing the entire forest, painting everything with a golden tint. It was beautiful, and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day out here...but this feeling of annoyance just wouldn’t stop naggin’ me, and I knew exactly why.

I briefly glanced over my shoulder, peering at my son as he scribbled something down in the weathered pages of his journal.

A quick sigh escaped me.

I didn’t know who the hell Arthur got his interest in art from, or why Beatrice even bothered buying him that book, but that child just couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from it. Every time I came across the boy, he was always scratchin’ down some fantasy world of his, or creating images of a utopia I ain’t ever seen. It was pointless.

He spent more time daydreamin’ in that book than he did playing outside, or hunting, or fishing -- hell, he didn’t even know how to read -- and yet, Beatrice seemed perfectly content with it.

Or at least...she did.

Beatrice weren’t around no more. She was killed by bandits a few months ago. Robbed. Left on the side o’ the road for the crows to feed on. But Arthur didn’t know that. Sheriff told him it was a wild animal that took her. A wolf, to be exact. And he believed him.

I dragged a hand down my face, suddenly feelin’ exhausted just thinking about it.

Had I done the right thing, not tellin’ Arthur the truth about his own mother’s death, I wondered? I figured the kid didn’t need to know the morbid details, or even the entire truth, but I still felt like a piece of shit for not revealing the full story -- especially considering that them bandits who killed Beatrice...killed her ‘cause of me.

I had stolen something from them. Somethin’ valuable. And before it fell into their dirty hands, that “something” apparently belonged to a rich plantation owner who really wanted it back. Ended up gettin’ one of the bandits hanged, and left them thirsty for revenge. But they didn’t have the strength to go after the plantation owner. So, they came after me instead.

They chased me for quite a while. They chased me across the mountains, across the swamps, across the goddamned snow...until finally, they came to their senses and realized there were much better, more convenient ways of hurtin’ me. And thus, their paths diverted to my wife and son.

Those bastards managed to corner her while she was ridin’ to town to do some shopping. Found her on some secluded road between here and the nearest settlement, and ensured she would never return. That was when Arthur went lookin’ for help to find his missing mother hours later, and the sheriff assured him a wolf had gotten to Beatrice.

Christ. I really was a terrible father, weren’t I? Not only did I pay more attention to a bottle o’ whiskey than my own wife, I had also neglected Arthur for years on end, and indirectly gotten his mother killed. And the boy was only eleven.

He had spent half of his life not knowing a damned thing about where his daddy was, or even what he did, only to lose the one parent he already had before he could find out.

Lord...there had to be some way to make this up to him.

I looked back at the boy, suddenly feeling an urge to say something -- anything -- to him.

“Arthur,” I called out, catching the kid’s attention as his head perked up from behind the journal’s pages, “put that damned book away for a moment, will you?”

The boy hurriedly marked his place in the journal with a pen and shut it closed, resting the object on the saddle’s surface as he hung his head low in shame.

“...Sorry, sir.” He murmured.

I shook my head, lettin’ out a concerned breath.

“You spend far too much time in that journal. It was a mistake to buy it.”

Arthur’s eyes wandered to the trees towering around us.

“I’m sorry, dad,” he apologized timidly. “But I like drawing.”

I scoffed. “Yeah? Well, I like Poker. But I ain’t got time to play it. Too busy worryin’ about survival, and keeping the both of us fed. You can’t always do what you want, Arthur. You gotta provide. Things like drawing, gambling...they’re frivolous. We got better things to worry about.”

The child quirked a brow. “Friv-uh-less...? What’s that mean?”

“It means we don’t need to do it,” I explained. “What we do need, however, is to eat. So put that journal away and keep an eye out for deer. You was the one who suggested we come out here in the first place.”

Arthur frowned in a discouraged manner. “Yes, sir.”

I gave him a stern nod. “Good boy. Now...you said you seen a big buck out here?”

The boy pointed ahead. “Yeah. It was by the river.”

I gave the reins a little tug, urging my horse to follow me. “Then that’s where we’ll start. C’mon, Boadicea.”

Continuing our little hunting trip, Arthur and I traveled deeper into the lively woods as creatures of all types scurried around us, rustling blades of grass and alerting the tiny insects that hovered above the plants.

There was a rather peaceful mood to the forest today -- a welcome change considerin’ how chaotic my life usually was -- and I had to admit: some part of me enjoyed being here with Arthur. I rarely ever got to see the boy because of my work as an outlaw, and when I did, he always seemed reluctant to leave the house. Whether that was because he was more of an indoors person, or simply ‘cause he weren’t eager to spend time with me -- I didn’t know. But it was good to be with him regardless.

Approaching the large river, I came to a temporary halt as I crouched down and examined the ground, carefully searchin’ for any tracks that could’ve possibly led us to the buck.

The area here appeared undisturbed -- save for the fish flopping in and out of the babbling water -- and as far as I could tell, there weren’t no deer running around this section of the forest. Not at the moment, anyway. Maybe they were at a different part of the river.

I took a closer look at the grass, only to be torn away from my thoughts when Arthur raised a question.

“Dad?” He asked softly. “Can I...can I ask you something? About momma?”

I paused, thrown off-guard by the sudden change in tone.

“Momma?” I repeated, slowly turning towards the boy. “Why you wanna talk about her?”

Arthur’s expression sank with sorrow.

“It’s just...you knew her better than I did. Or longer, I guess. And I don’t remember her that good. ...Do you?”

I gazed at him in a puzzled manner, admittedly still a bit taken aback by the abrupt question.

“...Clear as day,” I replied, unwilling to sift through the painful memories. “But that don’t matter. She’s...she ain’t coming back, Arthur. No one does, once they die. Ain’t no point in lingerin’ in the past when it can only haunt you. All we can do is move on. You understand?”

Clearly a bit hurt by my response, Arthur dropped the subject and averted his eyes from me, peering over at a nearby gathering of flowers instead.

He slouched despondently. “...I understand.”

That wasn’t good enough for me. I took a step towards him.

“Look at me when you say that, Arthur,” I demanded. “It’s important you look people in the eye when you speak to them.”

The boy brought his line of sight back to me, his face veiled behind a very subtle layer of fear.

He straightened his back a bit. “I understand.”

I nodded in approval. “Good. Now...let’s get back to huntin’ this buck. You sure it was around the river?”

Arthur gazed around. “I saw it this morning when I was playing with Copper,” he confirmed. “It was drinkin’ water right here. That’s when I came to get you.”

I observed the dirt underneath me, squinting my eyes as I searched for clues. The grass in these parts was quite thick, so that made it even tougher to spot fur, or dung -- and I still didn’t see any deer tracks -- but it certainly looked like another animal had been around here.

I kneeled down, shuffling the grass outta the way with my hand.

“It looks like some wild horses might’ve passed through this area,” I examined. “But no sign of deer. Oh, well...the day is still young, and we have some time, so we’ll keep looking.” I gestured to a nearby bridge. “Let’s try over there.”

Grabbing my horse’s reins, I continued to guide it through the woods as Arthur scouted the area for me, his big blue eyes scanning the sharp horizon while the sun escalated in the sky. There was a certain determination in his temperament now, and the longer we carried on trying to locate this buck, the more my son seemed to be enjoying himself.

Perhaps there was hope for us, after all.

“...Dad?” The boy called again, making me flick my eyes to the side. “What if there are wolves out here?”

I encouraged him to stay calm. “Now, don’t you go worryin’ about that. If we see wolves out here, we’ll be fine. We’re armed, we’re fast, and we’re smart.”

Arthur wasn’t convinced. “...Momma was smart.”

I sighed in a melancholic tone at that. “Yes...she was. But...Momma was killed by a different type of wolf.”

He tilted his head in a puzzled manner. “What d’you mean?”

I gestured to my rifle. “Not all wolves are the same, Arthur. Some use their teeth, some use their guns, and some use their tongue. You gotta be able to identify them when you see ‘em.”

The kid didn’t say it flat out, but I could tell he knew what I was really talkin’ about.

“Those sound more like people.” He replied. I let out a gentle chuckle.

“People can be worse than wolves, Arthur. In fact, I’d prefer a wolf over some o’ the people I’ve met.”

Arthur leaned forward in the saddle, his body swaying along with Boadicea’s steady speed.

“What kinda people have you met?”

I lowered my voice, thinking back to the bandits who killed Beatrice.

“Killers. Thieves. Deceivers. Men who will constantly betray each other even though they share the same motive: greed.”

I turned to Arthur with a remorseful look, hopin’ to do at least one right thing in my life, and use myself as a cautionary tale that money weren’t as clean as it seemed.

“...Greed,” I told him, “it breaks people, Arthur. They may not realize it, ‘cause greed can get you far in this world...but the reward ain’t worth it. Not compared to the things you have to sacrifice. In the end, you’ll have tons of cash, only to realize that there are luxuries not even millionaires can afford.”

His innocence took over. “Then why do they do it?”

That was a question I asked myself everyday. I shrugged in a disheartened fashion.

“Because they don’t care. So long as their pockets is heavy, and their bellies is full, they’ll keep on going. But like I said, greed poisons you. It kills you. And you won’t even notice until you’re already sittin’ in a grave. So promise me, Arthur, promise me that when you get to my age...you won’t become a wolf.”

Despite evidently bein’ a little confused, the child was able to make some sense of what I just said and agreed to the promise, reassuring me with a small smile.

“I promise.”

“Good boy,” I praised, bringing my mind back to the main reason we came out here. “Anyway, here’s the bridge. Why don’t you hop down and help me find this buck?”

“Okay.”

Sliding down the saddle, Arthur effortlessly climbed down and joined me, scurrying ‘round like a mouse while he searched for any signs of the buck. But so far, there was nothing in sight.

“See anything?” I checked. The boy shook his head.

I wiped some sweat off my brow, letting out a fatigued sigh. This animal was certainly proving to be a challenge to hunt down. We had already been in this forest for a couple hours now, and our efforts still hadn’t paid off. Part o’ me was almost starting to suspect if Arthur even saw a deer in the first place, and not some other kinda animal.

I decided to take a short break, and turned to ask the boy.

“You positive the buck was roamin’ around in these parts? Or that it was a buck at all? I haven’t seen any tracks so far.”

A soft rustle suddenly reached my ears, interrupting my conversation with Arthur as I reached for my gun, only to be stopped by a sound I didn’t expect.

It was a man’s voice.

“...Don’t even think about it,” the stranger warned, cocking his own gun. “I will shoot if necessary.”

Freezing at the intrusion, I remained perfectly still and didn’t utter a single word as a pair of footsteps steadily approached me from behind, followed by two more men coming in from the front on horseback.

They were all dressed in similar outfits donned with Nevada hats, and I couldn’t help but notice the star-shaped badges shimmerin’ blatantly on their chests.

Shit. These were lawmen. What the hell were they doin’ out here? I never expected the law to travel this far into the country. This was definitely odd.

What really puzzled me though, weren’t the fact that there were three lawmen just...waitin’ for us out here -- it was more the fact that Arthur didn’t seem phased by any of this in the slightest. Just what exactly was goin’ on?

Trotting closer to me, one of the mounted men glowered in my direction as he ordered his deputy to restrain me, his firm, steel eyes never wavering.

I recognized him instantly.

“...Sheriff Buchanan.” I muttered through gritted teeth.

He returned the greeting, scowling from under his hat’s rim.

“Lyle Morgan.”

I shrugged at him, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“What is this shit? What’s the sheriff doing all the way out here?”

Buchanan glanced at Arthur, standing in front of him in a protective manner.

“I told you I’d use every option I had to get you behind bars, Morgan...and I meant it. You made the choice not to heed my warning.”

Taking a second to process what he just told me, the realization suddenly hit me like a bullet to the gut as I stared at Arthur with a sense of immense betrayal, unable to believe what was happening.

There never was no goddamned buck.

Things was never gonna work out for me and Arthur.

This was all a trap.

My own...son...had turned me in.

He was the bait, and Buchanan was the true hunter.

I clenched my jaw in rage, doing my absolute best to shield my emotions as the deputy kicked me to my knees.

“...A-Arthur...?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

The boy looked me straight in the eye, standing adamantly beside Buchanan as his deputies tied me up. I threw a glare at the sheriff, damning him till my last moments.

“You bastard, Buchanan...!” I cursed. “You turned my own damned son against me...?!”

The man showed no guilt and tightened his grip on his rifle, silently advising me to stay back.

“No need,” Buchanan denied. “You drove him to me all by yourself.”

He placed a gentle hand on Arthur’s shoulder and guided him towards the second deputy, ordering them to bring him back to town.

“Clayton, bring the boy back to the office. We’ll figure out where to send him later. For now though, just keep him safe, and look after him.”

“Right away, Sheriff.”

Preparing both his horse and mine for departure, the deputy left Arthur next to the sheriff as the boy stood firmly in place, his innocent yet damaged gaze never leavin’ mine.

Despite the hint of remorse clouding the child’s eyes, it was pretty obvious Arthur felt he made the right decision in turning me in. And just as Buchanan’s second deputy started to drag me away, I couldn’t help but notice a beautiful Whitetail buck wanderin’ around in the distance, its majestic antlers standing out like a crown on a monarch’s head as it bathed in the golden sunlight.

The animal swayed its head in my direction, almost as if trying to communicate with me.

“I’m sorry, dad,” Arthur whispered as he walked towards Clayton, blocking the buck in the process. “...But you made me promise.”

Taking his leave, the boy finally mounted up and steadily trotted away from the scene, only to reveal an empty spot where the buck once stood as he left the forest.

Well...I may have found the buck like I planned, but it weren’t my job to kill it.

And it certainly weren’t my place to look for it.

I could hunt them down to my heart’s content, and kill ‘em all I wanted for my own desires...but in the end, they would always be able to afford the one luxury I’d never obtained.

Peace.

[gracedandelioninkmind]

Since it's pride month

For most of my time at school betweeb last september and febrary I had a crush on this girl. And you see Id been working through how feelings and sexuality work for me ever since the end of high school, because id been realizing that id never been actively interested in kissing or anything intimate with anyone. Id had plenty of what I call Sparks of Interests, where I just enjoyed looking at someone, talking to them, but more and in a different way than normally for friends. But all of those Interests were towards guys. I loved talling to my friends about guys and hypotheticals about them. I always envisioned myself in a man and woman couple and I loved that opposites pairing in every romance. But I wouldnt say that the ppssibility that I could be interested in girls hadnt crossed my mind. It didnt when I was little, and it didnt in middle school when I told girls that I didnt like boys, because they were stupid, and someoen asked if I was a lesbian. But in high school there was this awesome chick that transferred into our school. I woulsnt say I was overtly attracted to her, I certainly never had any fantasies about her, but I just thought she was so cool and I definitely wanted her to like me and to be friends eith her. Her twin brother was cool too. Oh oh and dont let me forget that one year I was apart of the schools journalism program and some of us were sitting around the classroom and I suddenly giggled at something I was reading, and this one nice tomboy girl was like omygod was that you that was the most adorable sound. I was so flustered, i will never forget that compliment.

But still i was straight. I fantasized about m/f relationships, not necessarily involving me because I cant often envision myself eith just anyone. I just think that romance is fascinating and enthralling and sometimes lots of things can be interesting.

And then I was reading a fanfic, and the girl was asexual, and Id been thinking about asexuality as an explanation for why I just didnt think i wanted to be sexual with anyone id ever met. But it didnt feel quite right because I know i mustve felt some attraction to some guys before, and definitely felt attraction to actors and such.

And then my friend gave me the term Gray Asexuality to research. Have you ever been putting together a puzzle and u put a piece in place, and it looks right and the picture doesnt seem to be wrong--but then you find another piece that looks so similar and you try it instead and it fits so much better, not loose or jammed. That was my feeling finding out that there was this complexity to sexuality and romance to explain why things just always feel so subtle for me. To explain why I can crave love but I really very often find that the very idea of kissing and sex is just awkward and weird to imagine for myself. It explained part of why my one week relationship fell through. Id had a crush on the guy since first meeting him at the start if the school year, and i had been so excited when he asked me out, and it was fun to hold hands and hug. But i hadnt wanted to kiss him, and it had bene so annoying when my friend told me i should kiss him, even just on the cheek. It just hadnt felt like there was a very big difference between my friendship with him and dating him.

So i got to thinking over all of my feelings towards all sorts of people. And if my sexuality and attraction was as rare and subdued as all that towards men, then I felt that maybe I hadnt wuite recognized any feelings id had towards girls.

And after discovering the asexual spectrum, i finally had some very interesting dreams, the likes of which id never had before turning 18 let me tell you. And they didnt only focus on men anymore.

And then i was in my second year at college, and i hadnt had many more dreams, and i hadnt found any real crushes my first year. But my second year i started working at the library, and one day this cute asian girl came through with a polite hello as she passed the front desk where i sat politely greeting everyone for my first week. I found myself memorizing her immediately. I would hope to catch her eye, catch a hello, a goodbye. I found myself glancing over to ehere she sat if she was in sight. And when she came to check out dvds i memorized her name immediately, all the more because id seen it on a study desk while doing rounds. See i hadnt knoem that if someone leaves something at their desk ee leave it alonenso id taken the open umbrella doem to the front desk and asked my coworkers and they said to put it back so i remembered the namr on the desk and returned it. So when i saw this cute girls name and recognized it from that desk, it almsot felt like fate. But that was silly. And i only thought she seemed nice and she was cute. That was all.

But then i was trying to capture her likeness on paper, ehich didnt go well those first few sketches because i hadnt gotten any good looks at her face. And after finding out her name I suddenly heard it cropping up elsewhere, and i was talking to my friends about her. My friends did not agree that i wasnt crushing. I insisted that i just wanted to get to know her was all. And then one day at lunch a new friend id made in class invited me to sit with her and her friends, and she mentioned an Eliza. Boy the anticipation, the excitement, the shy feelings, and the satisfaction when the very same girl sat with us.

Then that same friend invited me to a movie night at her dorm lounge with her friends, and when i asked who all would be there, anyone i know, she said maybe. I wondered to myself if She would be there. When i got into the dorm, lost and unfamiliar with the halls, waiting for my friend to come find me, I suddenly heard teo voices from upstairs. I knew one was my new friend, and with joy i recognized the other as Her. As it turned out She was the only other friend to join us. We 3 spent the night watching black panther and history of japan, getting to know each other, and I painted Her nails. It was different touching her hands then itd ever been with another girl. I found myself hoping for something. I hoped at least that she would like me as a person and wed be friends.

Every interaction after was a treasure for me. Moments we happened to be alone, when she offered to keep me company at lonely meals, when we had a big kdrama hangout and she did my hair, etc etc.

I had to acknowledge that it was crush of course. I told my closest friends about it.

And one day this crazy thing happened. I was sitting with Her and our friend and the two of us apart from Her were discussing dating apps and whatnot. And She asked why was i even concerned eith that stuff anyways. Id been thinking by then that she might be aspec because she never threw in her oen teo cents about interest in relationships whrn we discussed these things. I explained that i just wanted to try dating. I hadnt ever been on a real date.

While our friend was continuing with another topic, i heard Her say that She could take me on a date. My mind caught on it, but the topic had changed, and I felt that it couldnt have been serious. And so i gushed and whined about it to my friends. But the next day I brought it up as a joke with our group of friends, and she acknowledged that shed said it. Our friends supported it, because why not. Theres such a thing as a friendly joke date. I kind of messed it up i think though because when it was jsut us parting ways after brunch, she said she was going downtown, and i said That couldve been our date. And she agreed and invited me along. I wish id been dressed cuter. But it was fine, and it was a nice enough date, though i dont think she had any experience or interedt in how dates usually worked--it wasnt a serious date anyways, so i wouldnt get my hopes up. I wouldnt be invested. But wr passed a friend of hers, another cute girl maybe smaller than me, and She told her that we were on a date. That felt significant.

The next day i brought up that wed gone on the date to my group of friends, with Her sitting next to me. And she became so awkward, and after my friends congratulated us, she told me It wasnt a real date. On the outside i played it off casually saying Listen do you know how excited friends get about dates let me have this. On the inside i was so disappointed and heartbroken and a bit defensively angry with her. I announced to the table that she wasnt to make sure everyone knew it wasnt a real date. What i was really saying was hey friends she just crushed my heart.

But we were still friends. And after a while i got okay again. She hadnt even noticed anything had gone wrong.

At some point I told that first mutual friend about my crush on Her. Id been withholding eho my crush was on from her for a while and she hadnt even guessed Her. But when I told her she said everything made sense.

And then she set us up for a valentines day date. I couldnt believe it. She jsut randomly messaged me Would u want Her to be ur valentines date. And i was like Id appreciate any date tbh but yeah id like to go on a date with Her. And apparently She just agreed. I couldnt tell you why she did any of the things she did. But i can tell you that thru some conversations it became clear that my hypothesis was likely accurate. She didnt understand dates, she didnt see the difference beteren friend date and real date. This was just this nice outing with a friend. Part of me was okay with that, because i did simply enjoy Her. But another part of me felt unfulfilled and sad. But we had a nice date anyways. I learned even mroe about her and she made me this oittle clay blueberry because i would sometimes just pick out a blueberry at the dining hall and admire its beauty. It was a very nice date and i got to dress up cute for someone. I didnt let myself hope for much.

And then i was talking to more of our mutual friends about crushing on Her, and someone told me that shed asked Her out before and that her response had been something along the lines of not being interested like that. We all agreed that She likely just doesnt have any interest in romance or whatnot.

And so i began burying it away. My mourning period passed. She graduated, and its all over. My first ever crush on a non-man. It had been nice.

Btw her ringtone in my phone was Mindy Gledhill's I Do Adore.

[thehollerbox-blog1]

Sleepwriting to Get to Know My Self a Bit Better: a practice in allowing the existence of a collaborative self

Follow up to what may not have been legit in theory but may still be legit nonetheless

1. Sleepwalking can be a genetic or learned trait. I want to say it’s a personality characteristic or that it says or implies that one who is prone to be ambulatory while in a state of subtle REM is one who is prone to movement. Maybe they want to be participating in the productivity that only the woken world grants tangibility. To sleep and walk is to generate just that while simultaneously enacting the subconscious effort to produce without regard for tangibility at all.

I know I have rare events that made somebambulant and apparently spellcheck says Im not using a word that exists tangibly in the daylight of this current point in momentary traverse through other points to follow the light of sun into the glowing light of current threaded through filament in bulbs. The environment that wishes its own dreaming to be a waking sleep just as any wanting creature of consciousness may hope to do.. ironically so vecause it seems a desire that is not considered but exists as wanting as impulse as instince and reaction.

I know of the twilight response that cant gain footing in personal memory. The nights my friend Tiffany would call late or early but really both at the same time just to chat because smart phones were new and texting wasnt natural yet not the learned impulse it became for myself and Tiffany as well. I would normally take the call and only in the trust of Tiffany’s woken ability to retain those conversations was it apparent that I can somehow remain in the mode of natural rest, with that pressure placed to stifle conscious care, and somehow hold a conversation with someone I knew and cared for and wanted to ease any harm the inevitable years of high school brings us. Mostly inconsequential events in that regard but nothing is inconsequential when it is the result, the potential for emotional states of twilight laden strain to speak with the normalcy of every day an event did not bring the light of love into the dimming of it. And i say love with intention. It is unlike the world and an individual when want imposes us to aim for a waking sleep to balance the glow of it all of everything we miss in sleep and equally so in as we miss such an everything when we have woken and remain so as we exist with the tangible form of understanding what we are in the context of, the vision of what is within reach of our senses intention to assist us as we navigate the brighter rooms we may be in or may be able to see through windows and through screens. Because of love I have the capacity of care and I am grateful for that even when i believe my empathy is relentless in expanding as Ive gotten older without yet leaving youth. Because i cared about Tiffany it means I am experiencing love like any form of luminatuon that may aid my vision.

Those calls were given answer because of love. And if that is true as it must be true it must also be true that I had no feigning heart acting as if in obligation. I will reject calls most often during the day even when I have the time to accept them. But because my selr acted in subconcious impule in the shade of a dream that may never have the chance to recover in recall and acted so wanting to give Tiffanys calls anything that would not be labeled rejected by a smart phone which has a sleep we impose with images of buttons on screens that do not want the way we as human as those with love. The kind of unseen force that is the unseen hand. The power behind our pulse and beauty. Because I didnt make the choice in the worlds natural light and my own ability to envision the room the phone ringing– a tangible effort to exert tangibility into my senses while in stasis. Because of everything I answered. It gave truth to my love and want. That i was honest in sleep because i have no tangible in my desire. Answering the phone was how I could objectively evaluate the drive of what may not be love but simply concern and a sense of moral obligation.

2 Tiffany would tell me about those conversations. Some that she said went on for hours without exaggeration. So many hours as if to ignore the sleep or lack of it completely. Inching to a time when the earth is spinning back to give another half the image of another sun that is the same but is always changing into the same sun in its place in that vast nowhere. I cant remember what Tiffany told me about the content of our voices moving in a process unlike that of waves that slowly move to reach shore to allow the other to rise and reach shore. Water will never be a selfish thing.

She often started calling because she knew and I may have been the reason for her onowing that it is believed that those moments of subconscious acting in the stead of the power that holds it in a dim light my eyes can not be gifted even a sliver of any beam falling through their want and impulse to blink. Curtains we do not reach with any stretch of arms ahead and hands in grasping to try and move them from their permanence. Each was a call answered by the self i have consistently been learning in slow steps and always in just the smallest gleaning. The self I want to give tangible voice to and may do with my practice in easing its passage through my writing fingers which do not want but act as each is asked and always without complaint. The self I know is part of my woken self that speaks aloud in rooms and in the safety of an overhang during a storm last week with a friend. We spoke for hours and I forgot the rain until parting ways toward the home that houses the sheets and pillows in a room we make just for those items. Those are the happened moments that exist without the need to use time as concept to structure practical decision necessary in a new world that we began to grow around is. With brick and cables and the hum of electricity move for the lightbulb in the lamp on a single table beside my bed. All part of that growth. A miracle despite the erosion that is happening and beginning to expand as if it wants to act as the substance of what carries planets and stars and things that drift forever without want. This growth is this erosion. The two are not with truth a pair but an un numbered conversation about wanting to be organic and thus chaotic which is beautiful because there is no truth in my reference to a number as some border to divide what isnt meant to know such division.

3 My self may want to show that there is no numbered way to claim division of want of impulse of instince and that of choice anx decision and intention. I want to understand my self and Im listening my want with love. I am writing for hours without realizing that i am no longer present in the the spark that shows my eyes a vision of any resulting flash or shock to catalogue as happened and seen and real.

This want must be much more driven than I thought it was before last night when I wrote from a time I must only be able to estimate as the time it takes for REM to nearly finish its final cycles. Midnight maybe. Ending just about when the sun was about to face the side of a spun globe still spinning us toward that burning change that changes but still we say the sun is the sun every time.

3. I woke up and planned to write this. I didnt really decide that I wouldnt reflect on the time I considered that sleepwriting might be a legitimate occurunce that is unlike somnambulance. The legs are not the physical movement driven by the voice we only know as the painter of each dream. Ive lost so many but have I truly lost them if my self is not a numbered self but in conversation as Ive written this and will vontinue to until it is understood that a parting isnt needed. The conversation with the self I will one day give my version of the sun to as I see it when I leave through a door my hands will open without complaint or wuestion to that which drove them to grasp with an arm in bent extension moving to bridge the gap in the distance. Distance is like time for a reason I believe I know but will not attempt to examine because I imagine that the self has it written down somewhere in shade of curtained sight. There is no curtain. No division. I am not confused because I dont need a definitive. No question is divided from an answer simply because an answer isnt what the presence of this collaborative identity is in need of wanting. I dont even think I had a question to ask myself other than when we should get back to the conversation that wasnt enlightening as much as it was a coversation about light and what light we see defines what want we have for saying the sun rather than the changed sun from day to day. 4. The question: Why dont we have a wanting impulse to stop referring to the sun by the same word when it is a different sun after each ray finds its footing in the sight we share but perceive as if we arent an individual? The follow up question: Why didnt we start this sooner than last night or this morning or both I, and I, suppose? One Very Recent Illumination after asking my self a question: I agree with my self on something and that must mean that to ask your self a question or talking to your self isn’t at all an act we shouls assume to be rhetorical. That also suggests such behavior is a method of self awareness and it self love sounds cliche and annoying to me and my self–my head nod at the thought of it being an annoyance happening without conscious choice to nod a part of my phycical self that is the housing of the brain and that brain houses the self which issued the order to nod. My self without the voice I am learning to give is asserting that we agree and I imagine it probably happens without me choosing to give attention to those involuntary somatic events are worth the effort of observation if I want to get to the root of this goal Im so close to. I need to practice this changed version of me. Right? That was the final question for now and how I can conclude this writing should conclude. It was rhetorical and thus I and all that single pronoun means was not meant to respond but to listen and reenter the time of digitsl clocks on the screen I have used to type this with illusions of buttons as the medium and my thumbs as the willing method by which I may have been writing some of this. I know that I wrote most of it and all of it. Freud was right about this being difficult but I dont believe that he considered what it meant about indinviduality as a plurality when used as a human characteristic I aim for with the full force of all that impulse in not ending a sentence in brevity and the intention to notice that. Next time I may write after parsing this for clear moments when a concise sentence is presented after some noticeably lengthy sentences. I wrote both in any case but I want to know what light was in the room as I wrote them. That was lengthy. These two are concise. I am now saying this is the end of this and it will be after this last use of the word this repeated and followed by punctionation. Like this.